


Christmas Tree Caper

by Luthienberen



Category: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson (TV 1980)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: All Watson wished to do was to purchase their Christmas Tree without somehow involving London’s criminal world – was that really too much to ask?





	Christmas Tree Caper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my day in WAdvent. A sort of “prequel” to my story “Christmas Crackers”, but no need to have read or to read that one! If interested however, links ahoy: ["[Dreamwidth]"](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/1863752.html) or ["[A03]"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084333).

The market was noisy with the thrum of the merchants preparing their wares for the day, but bereft of customers apart from a handful of harangued individuals attempting to shop before the heaving multitude of London descended on the various markets spread through the city of iron, steel and coal.

Watson was one such individual. Walking through the near deserted market despite the cold rain falling, the good doctor eyed the stalls with interest. However, he held firm for his objective: a square piece fenced off and full of bristling pine firs.

He had come alone to ensure that there were no escapades due to Holmes presence – the man could honestly _conjure_ crime from nothingness. Thus, Watson had slipped out while said detective was sleeping heavily after the solving of their latest case: a dove whose partner had been kidnapped during a peace mission (the oddest case Watson had yet been involved in).

Talking animals! What next?

“Good morning Sir! Are you looking for tree? I have a nice one right here, see how bushy it is?”

“Yes, it does look fine, but I wish to have a browse first my good man. Oh and good morning.”

Watson brushed off the eager fellow and began examining the trees only to become aware of murmured voices and a smell he recognised.

Opium.

Oh no.

Sighing inwardly at stumbling upon a crime without Holmes present Watson knew he better nip this in the bud, before Holmes popped up disguised as an Angel of all things.

Pretending to be absorbed in his examination, Watson edged closer, catching the whispered conversation. Something about smuggling the opium in the next Christmas tree delivery.

Not on his watch! Carefully ducking behind a particularly beautiful fir, Watson gripped his cane and observed the men. There were only two rather rough appearing ruffians. Well, he had worse odds in Maiwand and since joining Holmes.

Apologising to the glorious tree he was hiding behind, Watson gave an almighty push that caused the fir to fall in a majestic bristling green tide upon the men. The men yelled in shock and scrambled away.

WACK.

THUMP.

Watson’s cane was unyielding and dropped both men in two beautiful clean arcs.

“What’s happening!” cried the merchant as he rushed up, “Why are Smith & Harry knocked out?”

Watson straightened his cravat and heavy coat, checking his gloves and cane ere responding.

“Oh nothing in particular. These two men were merely discussing how to smuggle opium among your fetching firs.”

Watson scrutinised the horrified man.

“I trust that you were unaware of their activities?”

“Of course I was – am!” screeched the man, face blotched with indignation and fear. “Why-”

“No need to have hysterics,” soothed Watson. “Please calm down before you have a heart attack.”

“But what about Smith and Harry? Ain’t they hurt?”

“I assure you good sir that they are perfectly well. I am a doctor and former solider, and consequently very aware of how to incapacitate someone without serious injury.”

The merchant’s mouth hung open in shock. Watson pulled out his notebook and wrote three brief lines.

“Now, please could you have this delivered to Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. I will tie up these fellows with any rope you may possess. Once you have returned I would like to purchase this fallen tree. She served me well and deserves a good home like any retired solider.”

The man swallowed any outrage at the idea of a sale and the hopeful prospect of being proven innocent in connection to any opium dealings. He darted off, sending to Watson a young boy with the required rope.

Successfully tying the now groaning ruffians, Watson crouched next to the fallen tree and inhaled the cleansing aroma of fresh pine fir. The scent cleared his mind so he could think. Laying one gentle hand on the tree who had done him such excellent service, Watson wondered how he would explain the situation to Holmes.

“Holmes will never let me forget this oh Tree.”

As it transpired – once Lestrade and his men had helped deliver the tree and Watson to Baker Street – Holmes had been initially ruffled he had missed such an adventure before laughing with glee at Watson’s predicament.

“You see Watson, ex-soldiers do not need consulting detectives to seek and find adventure, neither do doctors who are capable of stumbling upon human misadventures and dispensing medicine as appropriate – in this case, two sharp blows of your cane.”

Offering a lit pipe to Watson who was overseeing the safe anchoring of their Christmas Tree in the pot, Holmes grinned innocently.

“Since you were the one who had the mishap, may I remind you of our agreement?”

“What agreement?” asked Lestrade with curiosity, but also an edge of trepidation. He knew Holmes quite well after all.

“Why, the agreement that my cut-outs of criminals who have committed fascinating crimes, are allowed to grace our tree if Watson is the cause of our next case. I rather think that Watson not only stumbled upon the crime, but solved it remarkably adroitly.”

Lestrade stared at Holmes for a moment as if ascertaining his sincerity, then realising he was, sent a sympathetic look to Watson who simply shrugged. He had made the foolish agreement in the first instance, so now the doctor knew he had to concede and permit the rather morbid decorations to be hung up.

Considering their beautiful lady had assisted in catching the criminals, Watson was sure she wouldn’t mind too much. He would, however, ensure her branches had the most colourful ribbons and elegant candles for much needed gaiety.

“Then I shall leave you gentleman to decorate your tree,” said Lestrade, evidently surrendering them both as hopeless and nodding to them as his men finished their task.

“Good luck,” he added to Watson, as he put on his hat.

Watching as Holmes eagerly fetched his cut-outs and sat at the breakfast table with them, nibbling on toast with marmalade and sipping his milky tea as he began deciding their worthiness as decorations, Watson knew he would have it no other way. Though who knew what else lay ahead with his wonderful madman and the detective’s doctor who was equally capable of landing into trouble?

“Thank you Lestrade, I do believe we both are going to need it.”


End file.
